


The Rhythm of the Night

by thegrimshapeofyoursmile



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, adam as a magical being, an absolute AU, dreamer!Ronan, magical deity Adam, pynch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimshapeofyoursmile/pseuds/thegrimshapeofyoursmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darkness and rain was what It brought, the ground underneath Ronan’s feet changing and reshaping, coiling away from what he wanted it to be and turning into what it wanted to be. It touched him, and there was a rumbling, thundering noise slashing through the darkness until it rang in Ronan’s ears so loud that there was no place for anything else. And still the glowing, inhuman eyes watched him without blinking as a hand wandered up his arm and gripped his shoulder, hard enough to cause his bones to crack. It should have hurt, but instead Ronan felt strangely refreshed.</p><p><em>Come away with me to the darkness, little light</em>, It whispered without opening Its lips, a second hand gently tangling its fingers with Ronan’s. <em>Come away, little lamb, little whisperer. I have searched for you for so long. We are so lonely, little light, so lonely in this vast world. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rhythm of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired, believe it or not, by Suicide Squad, even though it has zero to do with the movie. I'm till not sure where I want to go with this, but I think I might be able to shape it into something good.
> 
> Have fun!

Dreams were a fickle thing.

Nobody knew that better than Ronan, and nobody knew better than him how dangerous it could be to walk between them. He had watched his father die when he was a boy, and it had been the first time he had sensed it: That raw power manifested in a shadow, nothing more than a bad feeling back then, but enough to make him recoil from testing out his limits. Dreams were a fickle thing and everyone wielding them was treading on ground made of glass. He had watched Kavinsky fall and burn when he was a teenager who had not used his powers in a long, long time, and it had been the second time he had sensed it: Coming closer, looking for something, looking for him, the shadow lurking, always lurking.

He did not sleep particularly well these days.

Instead, he could not help but wonder if it would not be worth it to ignore his father’s last words, to wield the power again, unrestrained from the tight confines he had built himself in his few dreams, a cage meant to keep things out. And yet – 

And yet, Gansey was dying. And yet, he knew that he could find the solution behind those walls, that he could save him, rescue him, give him life. And yet, despite knowing that something was looking for him and had been looking for him ever since he could remember, he tore down the walls one day and walked out, for Gansey as much as himself. And as his power unfolded anew, bigger and better than it had ever been, more than he had ever imagined it to be, it found him.

It came to him on quiet feet, a humanoid figure shaped out of shadows, sparks of raw power caressing its chin and shoulders, two eyes glowing like fen fire in the darkness it brought with it. It came to him with an outstretched hand and a face that was vaguely masculine and became more masculine the more Ronan looked at it, mesmerized by Its impossible beauty and strangeness and deadly grace. It came to him without hurry because It had found him at last and Ronan knew that It would not let him go again, and that it was his own goddamn fault. 

Darkness and rain was what It brought, the ground underneath Ronan’s feet changing and reshaping, coiling away from what he wanted it to be and turning into what it wanted to be. It touched him, and there was a rumbling, thundering noise slashing through the darkness until it rang in Ronan’s ears so loud that there was no place for anything else. And still the glowing, inhuman eyes watched him without blinking as a hand wandered up his arm and gripped his shoulder, hard enough to cause his bones to crack. It should have hurt, but instead Ronan felt strangely refreshed.

 _Come away with me to the darkness, little light_ , It whispered without opening Its lips, a second hand gently tangling its fingers with Ronan’s. _Come away, little lamb, little whisperer. I have searched for you for so long. We are so lonely, little light, so lonely in this vast world._

“You are not real,” said Ronan, and that was the moment where he awoke and found himself sitting upright in his bed, panting and coughing, filled with dread that rose into his heart and flooded his lungs, his throat, his ears.

It was standing on the end of his bed, watching him silently with glowing eyes in the darkness of night, the night that was creeping into the room through the window Ronan had left open. Had he pulled It out of his dream? Was this his fault?

 _No, little light_ , It said and slowly, very slowly cocked Its head a little. _We have been before you. We have wandered this land for a long, long time, and we will still be here long after you are gone. In earlier days, people worshipped us. We were their magician. But people forget, and people change. Only we remain the same. Only the dreamers know us now and not all of them can live knowing us._

“What’s your name?” Ronan asked and wondered whether he was going mad, wondered what he could do to prevent this alien being from killing his friends. “What are you?”

 _Creation_ , It said, _Spark. Aspiration. Potential. Come away with me, little light. You fit me so well._

“You don’t know me,” Ronan pointed out and wondered why he even bothered instead of trying to send It back to where it had come from. It was not dread, he suddenly realized, it was not dread that seized the air from his lungs. It was desire and curiosity. 

It cocked Its head again and came closer with almost dancing steps, his face more nuanced here in the real world than it had been in the world of dreams. Ronan looked at the long lashes above the glowing eyes in a finely boned, male face with high cheekbones dusted with greys and blacks, sparks flying across lips that started to open and slowly, slowly tried to form. Still it had no voice when it answered, _We have known you for a long, long while, little light. We have seen you in our dreams and helped you create. Let us create anew. I can be your magician, and you do not even have to kneel before me, for you are a dreamer and with that, we are equal._

“You are no dream,” Ronan realized in bewilderment, the curiosity in his bones licking at his nerves with burning streaks of anxiety. It said nothing, but still it came closer until it stood right next to him, not touching, not breathing, and yet when Ronan stretched out one hand and touched one of the long strands of hair framing that face, he realized that it was solid and something not out of this world, but not out of his dreams either, something in between and something out of every imaginable category. “Who is ‘we’?”

 _We have been something else once_ , It said after a long, long while, looking at Ronan’s fingers without moving. _Before we became what we are, I have wandered this world for thousands of years, but I have also been human. Once, there was a boy, and the boy had a name, and the boy’s name was Adam, and the name was pain._ Something twisted in Its face, the shadows lingering around It flickering, the sparks gaining intensity, which caused Ronan to let go of the strand of hair he had touched. _There was a wish to be something more, and the potential to be something great, and so we created. We became one, and we became something more, something great._

Ronan felt how the hair in his neck stood up and pressed his teeth together until they made a grinding, crushing sound. It hummed, the glowing, alien eyes in a human face never leaving Ronan as It lifted Its fingers and began to weave, gently, gently, sparks and darkness and raw power merging like thin threads into something blindingly beautiful, something that was life, a spark, a spark born from darkness and dust. 

_Sleep, little light_ , It said and cradled the spark gently in one hand, stretching it out towards Ronan. _Take this with you and let us create. We have been alone for so long and we are tired. Sleep for us._

“Fuck off,” said Ronan, but his heart was thrumming with the possibility, his heart was high with the rawness of it all, the glowing eyes, the spark cradled in a finely boned, powerful hand, the darkness and the dust creeping over the floor, the things he could do, the legends he could create. “I don’t trust you.”

 _So let me show you how to save your friend_ , It said. When the spark hit Ronan’s face, he did not even have time to scream before everything went blank.


End file.
